Tale of the Cat
by Willow Edmond
Summary: When an old friend of AJ's compares Punk to a childhood companion, AJ thinks the comparison is ridiculous. But maybe her friend is on to something after all.


**Disclaimer CM Punk and AJ Lee are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers / superstars that portray them. This story is intended as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights. **

**Original characters are the property of me, and the children of my own imagination. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

_This story is dedicated to Psion53 because she encouraged me to do it and gave me some suggestions. Thank you! _

* * *

><p><strong>The Tale of the Cat<strong>

The coffee shop was noisy and crowded, but AJ had managed to snag one of the quieter tables towards the back of the shop where she sat now, waiting for her cousin and friend, Laurie to show up. She had her hair up and tucked under a Cubs baseball cap and she wore her glasses today, hoping she wouldn't be recognized and so far it seemed to be working. She didn't mind the fans, but she really was hoping for a chance to talk to Laurie, she hadn't seen the girl in a couple of years.

She and Laurie had always been close, more best friends than cousins, but as they grew into adulthood, their lives took very different paths. AJ had gone on to become a wrestler, Laurie had gone to college and become an oceanographer. Both girl's jobs required a lot of traveling, and the only reason why they were able to meet today, is because Laurie had a layover before flying to Hawaii, where she would be joining a research team for six months on a research ship. AJ was excited for her friend, knowing this was something she was really looking forward to.

_It's just a shame Punk couldn't join us_, she thought, looking at her wedding ring. She still felt like a bride and wondered if she would still feel like this after the "honeymoon year" was over. She suspected she would. There were a lot of people out there who predicted doom and gloom and less than five years for their marriage to last, but she knew differently, she and Punk belonged together; his strengths compensated for her weaknesses and vice versa. They had so many other things in common too. And, she knew that even with all the other guys she had dated, Dolph, Daniel, so on and so forth, she had never felt what she did with Punk.

Lost in her thoughts, AJ didn't see Laurie enter the shop and was only aware of it when Laurie slid in the seat across from hers. "Hey, girlfriend!"

AJ looked up and grinned. "Laurie! You're looking good!" She was too. Laurie had always been the tall one of the two and when they were teenagers, she had been awkward, but time had been kind and what was once gangly was now stately.

"So are you, married life agrees with you and then some!" Laurie remarked, then motioned to the large paper cup that was in front of her. "Is this-"

"Venti, double shot, sugar free peppermint mocha with-" AJ began.

"-a double shot of peppermint!" both girls finished up in unison. It was Laurie's favorite drink and she gratefully took a sip. "I won't have many of these on the boat," she said, with an almost wistful sigh.

"Are conditions on the boat, bad?" AJ asked, genuinely curious. When Laurie had first decided she wanted to become an oceanographer, AJ had been a little surprised. Sure, Laurie had gotten a A+ in their High school Oceanography class, but so had AJ and never once did she think of making a career out of it. Her idea of oceanography was a day at the beach. But if Laurie loved it, AJ was willing to learn more about it.

Laurie shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, it's not a cruise by any means, but it's comfortable enough for research. But there sure isn't any room for a Starbucks on board."

"And you'll be out there for six months? Won't that be hard?"

Again, Laurie shook her head. "It's a fantastic opportunity for me, and I love seagoing research much better than working in an offshore lab. Yeah, it's a bit like living in a sardine can, but I'll be out in the water a lot, getting specimens. But, enough about me. What about you? Are you taking a leave from the WWE again?"

AJ nodded. "Punk just signed with the UFC, and he's happy about that, but we wanted a little time together before he'll be back on the road. Although the schedule for the UFC isn't as brutal as it is for the WWE, we'll still spend a lot of our time in separate directions." She looked again at her wedding ring and felt her cheeks getting a little warm. "And to be honest? I love wrestling, but I love him more."

"As well you should," Laurie agreed. "I just wish I could have made your wedding!"

"I know, I wish you could have too," AJ agreed. "I wanted you to be in it."

"Well, maybe next time," Laurie suggested.

AJ stared at her, eyes instantly narrowing. "Please don't tell me you're like all those skeptical so-called fans out there who are predicting our divorce!"

Laurie quickly shook her head. "Not at all! I was thinking that if you got remarried on your 25th anniversary, like some folks did. I could be in your wedding then. Honestly, I wasn't trying to imply that you and Punk made the wrong choice at all!"

The anger that had surged through AJ abated and she smiled. "I'm sorry, overreaction on my part. I'm just..." her voice trailed off, not wanting to explain, not wanting to ruin one of the few times she had with her friend by whining.

"Are people really that rude," Laurie asked.

AJ nodded. "Some are. I mean, a lot of the fans and our friends are really happy for us and wish us nothing but the best, but there is a rather, let's say _vocal_ minority that seems to have nothing better to do than get on every piece of social media and predict our demise. And they do it so cheerfully, as if nothing will bring them more joy than to have our marriage fall apart. It shouldn't matter, and mostly it doesn't, but sometimes it's so...wearing."

"I can see that," Laurie reached over and gave AJ's arm a comforting squeeze. "But you know, the best way to get back at them is to have a lifelong happy marriage."

"And we have every intention of doing that," AJ said. "But it's just, _weird_, you know? Punk and I get along really well, but like any other couple we have disagreements. And with most people that's it, you disagree, resolve, go on. But every time _we_ have one, I find myself thinking, '_Is this it? Are we doomed? Are all those naysayers right and our marriage won't last?' _ It's so stupid, but I can't stop myself."

"How does Punk feel about it?" Laurie asked, her soft brown eyes looking sympathetic. Laurie had no idea what it was like to be a celebrity, nor did she want to, but she could imagine that being such public figures would be hard on any newly married couple.

"He says we should just ignore them," AJ said.

"And then gets on Twitter and tells them off?" Laurie asked.

AJ looked at her friend. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Laurie shrugged. "Don't take this wrong, AJ, but I think I understand what you see in him."

AJ shook her head. "You only see what the world sees," she disagreed. "You haven't really had the chance to sit down and talk with him, or get to know him. So while I appreciate that you think you know what makes us work, you really don't know him."

"I do read his twitter," Laurie said. "And, I do watch wrestling, especially because of you. And I've noticed something about your husband."

"Oh? What's that?"

"He's exactly like Snickers."

"_Snickers?_" AJ said, a little shocked, not just at the comparison, but at the mention of the name. "Snickers, my _cat?"_

Laurie nodded. "It's not necessarily a bad thing, AJ, that cat loved you, and you loved that cat."

She had too. Snickers was a stray, who had adopted her. Skinny with black fur that became amazingly soft and shiny once he started eating regularly. The cat had been considered a nuisance by everyone in the neighborhood, which was okay with Snickers, because he pretty much held everyone in disdain Everyone except her. She didn't know if Snickers recognized another lost soul in this world, or of Snickers saw "Sucker" written on her forehead, but the cat had persisted in following her around, rubbing up against her, and begging for affection until she eventually relented and took him in. She had loved that cat, he had been more than a pet, he'd been a true friend. When life got too hard as an eleven year old girl, and she was lonely, there was Snickers, climbing in her lap, rubbing up against her, telling her in his own cat-way that she wasn't alone, she had him and he had her. When Snickers had died when she was sixteen, she had been heartbroken. It didn't matter that the vet told her Snickers was an old cat when they found each other and that she had probably given him five more years than he would have had on the streets, she found that no comfort, she had lost a true friend.

Of course, she had been the only person who seemed to have this view of Snickers. To everyone else, her family and her friends, Snickers was the quintessential arrogant cat. They saw him as arrogant and ill-tempered at worst, at best, they merely found him aloof and unfriendly. She never could seem to get anyone to understand that Snickers really wasn't who they thought he was, they just didn't know him the way she did. "Are you saying my husband reminds you of a _cat?"_ She was aware her voice came out a little bit sharper than she intended. She had loved Snickers, but to compare Punk to a cat, a cat Laurie hadn't even liked, was a bit much.

"Well, yeah," Laurie said, shrugging. "Look at the way he is, AJ! He's constantly complaining that his fans mob him."

"They _do_," AJ said.

"Yeah, but he makes sure to stay right in their thoughts," Laurie said. "He says stuff on twitter, he stays in the public eye, sometimes it comes across like he's standing on the mountain with the megaphone yelling, 'QUIT PAYING ATTENTION TO ME!'"

"Oh, please!" AJ shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. "He's not like that at all!" She was aware that if this was anyone but Laurie telling her these things, she'd be upset.

"Maybe he's not like that, but that's how it comes across," Laurie said, thoughtfully. "Remember how Snickers was during family gatherings and stuff? He'd be in the living room and we'd all come in? Someone would try to pet him and if it wasn't you, he'd get all huffy and stalk out of the room?"

"Yes." AJ smiled a bit at the memory of Snickers storming out of the living room. "He didn't like anyone petting him but me."

"And that's fine," Laurie continued, "but what always got me was that he'd stalk out of the living room, then about a half hour later, he'd come back and sit in the doorway. It was like when he first left the room, he was going, 'oh god it's _you_ people, I hate you. I'm ignoring you!' Then, a few minutes later he'd come back, peer in and it was like, 'Excuse me? Do I need to remind you people that I am_ ignoring_ you?' And we'd all go on, doing whatever it was we were doing, watching TV, playing a board game, whatever, and Snickers would storm into the room and jump up on the board game, or jump in front of the TV, and you could just tell if that cat could speak he'd be saying, 'How _dare_ you not pay attention to me when I'm ignoring you!'"

"Yeah," AJ said. "I remember that." She always found it amusing that Snickers acted like he couldn't stand being around people, but generally hated even more _not_ to be around them. "But, Laurie, Snickers was a cat, Punk is not!"

"No, of course not," Laurie said. "But he just comes across that way sometimes. Like back in the WWE, he would demand that everyone respect him, while completely disrespecting them."

"Yeah," AJ said, shrugging. "It's called acting."

"I never bought that it was completely acting with him," Laurie said slowly. "It came across too sincerely."

AJ shook her head. "Laurie, I can't believe you're comparing my husband to a cat!"

Laurie smiled and looked a little sheepish. "I'm sorry, I'm not saying he is like a cat, I'm just saying he comes across that way sometimes. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I actually find it amusing."

"You didn't upset me," AJ said, but she wasn't being completely honest. "Because it's ridiculous. Punk just doesn't suffer fools gladly, that's not a bad quality."

"Yeah?" Laurie looked at her, brows raised. "You could say the same thing about Snickers."

AJ rolled her eyes. "Again, ridiculous. When you're off that boat and back on dry land for longer than a few hours, you'll come to Chicago and visit and get a chance to spend some time with him and you'll see just how wrong you are. You'll love him. He'll be the big brother you never had."

"I'm sure I will," Laurie said, "After all, he makes you happy, and that makes him awesome in my book."

The conversation shifted away from Punk and onto other things. Family, mutual friends, and their careers. As always when she was with her cousin, time seemed to fly and all too soon, Laurie was on her feet and the two women were hugging. "I wish we had more time," AJ said, wistfully.

"Me too," Laurie agreed. "But, at least we still have the internet. You've got my email addy, right?"

AJ nodded, rising herself. "And you have mine, too, so, no excuses!"

"No excuses," Laurie agreed. "As long as we've got some way to connect to the 'net, I'll keep in touch."

* * *

><p>Punk wasn't back by the time AJ got home, which didn't surprise her. He had an interview with a local sports channel, and she knew she probably wouldn't see him until later in the afternoon. While she would have loved nothing more than to spend the whole afternoon with him, having some time to herself didn't seem all that bad either. She often didn't have time to just relax and enjoy herself, there always seemed to be something going on.<p>

She went into the bedroom and changed into an old T-shirt and yoga pants, one of the least attractive but most comfortable outfits she owned. Flopping on the king sized bed, she grabbed the remote on the nightstand and turned on the TV. Yes, there was a TV in the living room, but sometimes it was nice to just lay in bed and watch TV like a kid on a lazy Saturday morning. She turned the TV over to Netflix and looked over her list of shows "to be watched." Orange is the New Black was on it, and since a lot of her friends had told her she should watch it, she decided to give it a try.

AJ got so into the adventures of Piper and the other women in the prison, that she didn't even hear Punk come in until he was standing in the door way. "What's up?" he asked, looking around the room carefully, before coming inside.

"Hi," she said, glad to see him. "I wasn't sure when you were getting back, I was watching that Netflix show, Orange in the New Black. So many people have told me it's great."

"Is that the one about the women in prison?" Punk asked, walking over to the bed and leaning over to kiss her.

She returned the kiss before answering, "Yeah. And it's better than I thought it would be."

"Really?" Punk shrugged. "Hearing about it I didn't think it would be something that would interest either of us." He moved to the end of the bed and sat down, effectively blocking her view of the TV. At first she said nothing, figuring he would move away, but he stayed there.

"Punk?" she asked, "Do you mind?"

"Mind what?" He continued to stare at the TV screen.

"I can't see the show," AJ complained.

"Why not?" he still didn't move.

"Maybe it's because you're blocking the way?"

"You could move too, you know."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, deciding it wasn't worth an argument. She knew which episode this was, she could watch what she missed later. "I'm hungry, do you want something to eat?"

"No," He said, eyes still glued on the TV set. "I had a sandwich after the interview."

"Okay." She rolled out of the bed. As she walked towards the door, he reached out and ran his fingers up her arm. She smiled and paused, but he just seemed to want that little bit of contact, so she left the room.

* * *

><p>Out in the kitchen, she took a bag of salad greens out of the refrigerator and a can of tuna from the cupboard and started making a salad. She opened the can of tuna and emptied it into a small colander to drain and poured the salad greens into a bowl. Realizing she forgot the dressing, she went to the refrigerator, when she turned around, Punk was sitting on the counter. "Yikes!" she called out, startled.<p>

"What?" Punk asked. He was helping himself to the draining tuna.

"I didn't hear you come out!" AJ said, "And why are you sitting on the counter?"

"I like it," Punk said.

"I know," AJ said, shaking her head. "But c'mon, Punk, you shouldn't sit on the counter."

"Why not?" He studied her, as he often did when she made any attempt to correct behavior he didn't feel was necessary. "It's a good granite counter, my sitting on it isn't going to hurt it." He helped himself to more tuna.

"How about the fact that you've been wearing those pants all day?" she countered. "They can't be clean."

"I bathe!" he pointed out, rolling his eyes. "I'm a very clean person." He took another bit of tuna fish, and popped it in his mouth.

"I know, but you can't control what might get on the back of your pants during the day," she reminded him. "You sit in chairs, who knows what was on those chairs."

"Granite has natural antibacterial properties," he reminded her. "Give it a quick wipe with one of those cleaner cloths and it will be all set." He took another pinch of tuna fish and ate it, his eyes half closing for a moment, clearly enjoying the taste of the fish.

She noticed _he_ didn't offer to clean the counter, and shook her head. She knew some people would find some of Punks little idiosyncrasies annoying, and sometimes she did too, but most of the time, she found them a bit endearing. Punk didn't follow rules he felt were stupid, he lived by his own code. Most of the time she could admire that._ Most_ of the time. "Are you going to leave any tuna fish for me?" she asked.

"Oh," he looked into the colander where there were only a few pieces left. "Maybe you should open another can?" he suggested, taking another pinch.

"Gee, for someone who didn't want something to eat, you sure downed that tuna." She pulled another can from the cupboard and started opening it.

"I didn't know you were going to have tuna fish," he said. "You know I love tuna fish. If you had told me you were going to have tuna fish, I probably would have said I wanted some."

* * *

><p>By the time she finished making her salad, Punk had only eaten about half of the second can of tuna fish and she called that a victory. He sat down with her while she ate, making movements a few times as if he would snitch a bit more. She playfully slapped his hands. "Stop that! This is my lunch!"<p>

He looked at her, a mock sad expression on his face. "You won't share with me? Your husband who loves you more than anyone in the world?" He sniffled, looking almost as if he would cry.

"Stop it, you know I can't resist you when you do that!" She laughed and gave him a fork full of tuna fish.

* * *

><p>After she finished her lunch, she put the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped down the counter. As she was closing the door, she heard a scuffling noise and turned around. Punk was kicking a cap from a bottle of water around the floor. "What are you doing?" she asked.<p>

"Well, I was trying to kick it up in the air so I could grab it," Punk admitted. "But that doesn't seem to be working too well." He kicked the lid again and when it slid across the floor, he hurried over to it and kicked it again. "I know I can get this..."

She tried not to laugh and shook her head. He could be so cute when he did things like this, found silly things to amuse himself with. "Are you going to play with that all day?"

He kicked it over to her. Grinning, she kicked it back to him. For several minutes they played some simple and strange version of hockey, batting the bottle cap back and forth several times across the tile floor, until he stepped on the lid just right and it flipped high in the air. He caught it in one swift move. "I guess I win!" he said, as he threw it in the trash.

* * *

><p>They went back to the bedroom, deciding to watch more of Orange is the New Black. Well, at least that's what she planned on doing. He claimed he didn't care about the show, but he went with her. "I can keep you company."<p>

She propped up the pillows and leaned against them, turning on the TV. While she was finding the spot where she had left the show before, Punk snuggled up close to her, putting his head in her lap. When she found the spot and leaned back on the pillows to watch, she absentmindedly stroked his hair.

For the rest of the episode, they relaxed together like this, her watching the show and stroking his hair, him with his head in her lap, eyes closed, looking like the most content person in the world. A few times she looked down at him and smiled, wondering if he really was asleep. She knew she could find out, but he seemed so happy that she didn't want to ruin it. So, she continued to stroke his hair and waited for the next episode to start. This really was a better show than she thought it was going to be.

About ten minutes into the next episode, Punk abruptly sat up. "Everything okay?" she asked, wondering if his back or something was hurting.

Without a word, he walked off, into the bathroom. "Is everything all right?" she called after him.

No answer.

She got off the bed and went over to the bathroom door, pressing her ear against it and listening. Had the tuna fish been bad and was now making him sick? She didn't think so, she had eaten it and she felt just fine. Did he have a bug of some type? She strained to listen, realizing she could hear nothing in the bathroom, absolutely nothing. "Punk?" she called out, softly. "Is everything okay?"

There was no answer from the bathroom. Worried he might have fallen, she tried the door and found it unlocked. She rushed inside.

Punk was sitting in the bathtub, fully clothed, knees drawn up to his chest, arms around them, looking both forlorn and ticked off. She walked over and sat on the edge. "Punk?" she asked, her voice soft. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her, scowling slightly. "You know what's wrong," he said, his voice accusing

"No," she shook her head. "I don't, what's wrong?"

"You know what you did," he insisted stubbornly.

"I did something?" She was surprised. "What did I do?"

"You know what you did!"

"No, I don't!" she protested. "We were just sitting there, I was watching the show and you had your head on my lap. I thought you might be taking a nap."

"And what else were you doing?" His gaze was fixed on hers and she could see he truly did feel as if some injustice had been put on him.

"Uhm..." she thought for a moment. What was he talking about? What had she done? "I was stroking your hair," she said, still thinking.

"I didn't want you to stroke my hair," he said, sounding a bit petulant.

"But I was stroking it earlier and you didn't mind," she reminded him. "I'd been stroking it for, like, half an hour, maybe even more."

"That was fine, _then_," he said in a tone of voice that implied she really should know better. "But I'd had enough and you didn't stop."

"You didn't tell me to stop," she protested. "If you'd said something, I would have stopped."

"Well, you know now I wanted you to stop, don't you?"

"I guess," she tried not to sigh. "I'm sorry," she said, even though part of her felt that she had absolutely nothing to be sorry for, she had learned that there were times when it was best just to claim responsibility for the little things. She knew that soon enough he'd forget all about it.

"You should be," he said, a bit grumpily.

Now she did roll her eyes. She understood that marriage was often filled with compromises, but there was a point where enough was enough. Yes, this would all blow over, these little things always did, but she didn't have to sit around and let him accuse her of things that she really didn't have any control over. How was she supposed to know he'd had enough of his hair being stroked unless he told her! "You're acting like a kid, no, not a kid, you're acting like a-"

Her eyes widened, knowing that she had been about to say he was acting just like a _cat_.

"I'm acting like a what?"

"Nothing," she said, but Laurie's words from earlier came to her mind,_"He's exactly like Snickers." _

* * *

><p>She left him in the bathroom, deciding the best thing to do was to just leave him alone until his mood had past. She went in the living room instead, getting a book off the bookshelf and sitting on the sofa to read. She tried not to think about what she had thought. That Punk was really acting a lot like Snickers had. <em>That's ridiculous,<em> she told herself. _You're only imagining he's showing that behavior because Laurie said that stuff this afternoon. He's Punk, he's not Snickers. I didn't fall in love with him because he reminded me of Snickers._

A few minutes later, he was in the doorway, looking around carefully before he came into the room. She continued to read her book, pretending not to look at him, but sneaking a glance out of the corner of her eyes. There was a slight possibility that she saw a tiny bit of guilt in his expression, maybe. It was hard to tell with him.

He sat down next to her. "Whatcha doing?" he asked, even though it was pretty obvious.

"Reading," she answered, still trying not to look at him.

"Oh." He stared at her for a bit, she could feel it, but she refused to look at him. She wasn't really mad at him, she found it almost impossible to stay mad at him, she loved him too much for that, but she still felt that she couldn't give in that easily. "Is it a good book?"

"Yes," she answered, even though she really wasn't reading it. "I'm enjoying it a lot."

He moved a little closer to her. "Maybe we could do something else?" he asked.

She turned a page, even though she hadn't even finished the previous one. "Mmm," she said, keeping her eyes on the page.

"C'mon," he said, and put his hand down on the book, effectively blocking her from seeing the words. "Let's do something."

"_I_ am doing something," she said, moving his hand. "I'm reading."

He put his hand back on the book. "But we could do something together," he suggested.

She pulled the book away, and closed it, using the dust jacket inside to mark her place. There was no point in trying to keep reading, he would continue to block the page until she stopped, so she might as well just give in now. "Okay," she said, smiling. "What do you want to do?"

* * *

><p>It was the next morning during breakfast, before she would get on the boat, that Laurie checked her phone and found she had an email from AJ. Sipping her coffee she opened it to read it:<p>

_Hey, Laurie,_

_It was great to see you today, I just wish you could have stayed longer. _

_I might have gotten a little defensive with you for those remarks you made about Punk. Maybe I just never noticed it, but you're right, he is a bit like Snickers. _

_I hope the research trip goes well and keep in touch if you can! _

_Love You!_

_AJ _

The End.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> This came about mostly because of a conversation with Psion53, where I remarked that the way Punk acts on social media often reminds me of a cat that my parents used to own, a cat that seemed to hate everyone but my father, yet hated even worse to be ignored. She and I started talking about how Punk had shown some other, rather cat like behavior in his time at the WWE and I decided I had to write a story about it.

This is just a silly story, written simply for fun. Don't read too much into it, just enjoy it for what it is. A silly bit of fluff. And I hope you enjoyed it.

If you have a moment, I'd love it if you gave me a review. I know, I know, I'm begging. But seriously, is it that hard to write, "Good story," or "I liked it?" It isn't hard to write a favorable review. I do admit, it's harder to write a critical review, because yeah, if you don't like it, you really should let me know why so I can improve. But if you found it enjoyable, amusing, whatever, it would mean a lot to me if you took that extra minute to let me know? Reviews are the only way I have of knowing if anyone likes/dislikes/bothers to finish these stories. Yes, I can see how many hits the story has, but hits doesn't mean the story was read. For all I know, 99% of you folks opened the story by mistake (don't laugh, I've done that) or read one paragraph and thought, "Wow, she sucks," and went to something else.

So, yeah, I'm begging. And I know I'm not supposed to, but seriously, I'll never improve if I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I'll stop feeling inclined to continue this hobby if I don't know I'm doing it right. So, again, I'd really appreciate it if you could spare that extra minute or two.

Happy New Year

Willow.


End file.
